The memory here is actually two memories. It is as much about my grandfather Clarence Wickliffe as it is about the radio. The two are inseparable, because I can not think of one without the other. My grandfather died when I was very young, but I know from the stories my mother has told me through the years, that he was a man who loved his children and grandchildren very much. The story below is one of the few clear memories I have of him, and I often think my life would surely have been enriched had he lived to watch me grow to manhood.